A Cold Way Of Getting Warm
by Riddles of the Werewolf
Summary: Harry Potter is a normal boy with a lying mom and a dad who isn’t really his dad. He thinks he’s a Potter, in reality he’s a Riddle. Will he ever learn the truth, or will he live a life he was never meant to live? DarkHarry ManipulativeDumbledore NoSlash
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or any songs written by the Mountain Goats.

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**A Cold Way Of Getting Warm**

**Prologue**

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_The day I turned my back on all you people,_

_I felt an itching in my thumbs._

_The salt air like a broadcast from the distant, dark beyond,_

_When my transformation comes._

_-In Corolla, The Mountain Goats_

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"Filth!" The loud and shrill voice screeched as a chair was thrown across the room. "A mudblood's child! Nothing more than that! A disgrace to walk at all! _Filth!_"

"I-I-I'm s-sorry," Harry, a small four year old, croaked, as he took refuge in his hiding place under a table.

"You are a _mistake_!" The woman with the shrill voice stated, her eyes gleaming with a madness Harry had never seen.

He positioned his hands in a defensive posture over his face. "I'm sorry! P-please stop!"

"Stop!" The woman with the shrill voice laughed. "We've only just begun, boy!"

"Please!" His wide eyes gazed in a petrified stare at the woman. Her angrily tangled black hair stuck up in every which way. Her mad eyes were ringed by dark purple circles, clashing horribly with her pasty face. She had cracked fingernails and torn clothes, and she stood with a slight hump formed at the base of her shoulder blades.

The sight scared him.

He backed away under the table so it blocked the bad woman's head and only left her ratty legs in his line of vision. He hopelessly whimpered again. "Please."

"'_Oh please stop! I'm sorry, please stop!'_" Her sick voice mimicked, the tone jumping up octaves sounding baby-like. "Ha!" She cackled her voice returning to normal. "The mudblood's child is begging me! Here he is, on he's knees, asking for _my _mercy! Beg some more, you little bastard! Beg like your dear, dead mommy!"

He wasn't sure what she was talking about. What was a mudblood? Why was the person so angry with him? What did she know about his mom? Why would his mom beg?

Why would she say his mommy is dead?

Just wanting the loud and scary voice to stop he stuttered, "P-please. Don't hurt me."

For some reason this made the bad lady before him laugh even harder, if the cruel sounds coming from her mouth could be considered that. "Aw, the little half-blood doesn't want to come out and play?"

He hadn't ever played much, at least not with other people, but the lady certainly didn't _sound _like she wanted to play. "Leave me alone," His quiet voice muttered. He wanted to _get out_.

"You little piece of shit!" The woman screamed, and he watched under the table as she threw another chair against the wall. "How dare you command me! How dare you speak orders in my presence!"

The little boy shivered, his green eyes darting around for an exit. Only the room was awfully big. Even though he was fast, he didn't think he would be able to run all the way to the end of it without the scary lady catching him. He didn't even know if the door would be open, even though he couldn't think of why it would be locked. It only locked from the inside, not the other way around. Harry was positive of this…or at least he thought he was, but he didn't want to take the risk. He didn't come in this room much, because this _was_, after all, Uncle Sirius' house, and it wasn't so much that he _couldn't _explore the entire house, as it was more that he never had the time to wander around, since Sirius was always keeping him busy with toys and brooms and stories.

He missed Sirius. Why wasn't he here? Why was this lady here instead? How did she get into Uncle Sirius' house? Wasn't Sirius suppose to protect him from mean ladies like her?

Questions swarmed his head. It was the most questions he ever had in his life! He was so confused, and his head was hurting, and he was really scared, so it didn't help him one bit when the bad woman shrieked, "Did you here me little brat!? You will answer when I talk to you!"

He was _so _confused. She yelled at him when he talked and she yelled when he was silent. What was he suppose to do?

"I'm sorry!" He yelled out, his throat tight and his nose clogged. "Please just leave me alone!" His eyes shut and his hands clutched his black hair.

There was silence while the lady didn't respond, and he was thankful for that. It gave him time to _think_. He tired to visualize the room and think if there were any windows he could sneak out of, or perhaps he would try the door after all. He cracked one eye open in caution, but the other one quickly snapped open in fear as he saw the feet of the lady approaching him.

_I need to get out_, Harry thought frantically as he rocked back and forth with part of his thumb in-between his teeth. _I need to get out. I need to get out. I. Need. To. Get. Out!_

The feet were so close now that the toes of her ripped shoes were under the table's shadow.

_Please, please, please, please. Go away. Please just go!_

He could see the woman's arms hanging by her sides. One of her hands, with the ugly and miss-shaped fingernails, clutched a stick. Harry's eyes widened even more. The bad woman had a _wand_. Why hadn't Harry noticed it before? He didn't know a lot about magic, but he knew a lot of bad things could happen because of it…and this lady looked liked the kind of person to _make _those bad things happen. He didn't know how bad those particular things would be because his parents were very carful to not talk about bad things like that in front of him.

But sometimes Harry would be _very_ sneaky and quietly tip-toe out of his room at night and listen around the kitchen corner as his parents talked about their jobs as those auro-thingies. There, he could sometimes here about the awful spells and curses that existed.

Harry had learned that he could hear things like that after his daddy, James, had come home with a little limp, and he had said that he slipped and hurt his knee and that it was nothing to worry about. But Harry knew better than _that_, and that night he just happened to _slip_ out of his bed and listen in on his parent's conversation. He learned his father had the knee dislocated when he feel down a flight of stairs in a fight against a few wizards who had done one thing or another. His daddy hadn't talked about the fight much, saying he was tired and had to head off to St. Mungo's to get his knee fixed. But ever since then, Harry had learned about a lot of curses and cuts his daddy had witnessed thanks to that very convenient kitchen corner. Especially one called the crucio-curse-thing that apparently was really, _really_ painful.

Harry gulped as he stared at the mean lady's shoes. What if she knew about that curse? What if she wanted to _use _it on him?

_Leave me alone! Please! _He screamed in his head, to scared to produce even the smallest whimper.

"Aw does the itsy-bitsy-boy think he's safe under there?" The baby-voice was back.

In a flash, the table that had previously given him a sense of safety was lifted and thrown to the side. He winced as it slammed into the wall with a loud _wham!_

_Stop it! I never did anything to you, leave me alone! PLEASE!_

"Never did anything to me!?" She screamed and Harry scurried backwards, grimacing. He hadn't realized he had said that last part out loud.

"It doesn't matter," She whispered, glaring at Harry. "Because I've done something to you." She smiled. "I've killed your _precious _mother. I've killed your uncle. I've killed your," she paused, before smiling like she knew a trick was about to be played. "I've killed your _'father'_."

She was lying. She _had _to be lying. She didn't even know _who _his parents were. She didn't know _him_. She couldn't have killed them. She couldn't have!

"I've killed them. I've killed them all!" She taunted, seeing Harry's distressed face.

She was lying. Of course she was. His parents were out, working a double shift. And Sirius wasn't dead, no, he probably fell asleep! That's why he wasn't here right now! He was probably snoozing away in some other room, not even aware of what was going on. Or maybe he went out and forgot Harry was here. Harry _was _very quiet after all.

"And do you know how each of them went? They went _begging. _Begging for their lives! Begging for _your _life." She snorted. "As if your life is worth anything!" She spat on the floor.

Why was she saying those things? Why was she here? What had Harry ever done to her? _WHAT!?_

"And you will be joining them soon you half-blood fifth!" She pointed her wand at the trembling boy before her and spoke in a harsh whisper. "You shall _never _be worthy. You were only a mistake. He will reward me greatly for ending your existence."

Harry's eyes watered. He didn't even want to try to understand what she was talking about. He just wanted her to stop. He wanted her to go!

"_Leave_," He said softly, very uncomfortable.

She snickered taking a step forward. "You'd be wise to keep your mouth shut. Do you know who you are talking to?" She waited but Harry kept his mouth tightly closed as he hugged his knees. "My name is Bellatrix Lestrange. Do you know who I am?"

Eyes still wide and watery, he shook his head, which caused the lady to laugh. She seemed to laugh at a lot of things.

"I am a Deatheater," She grinned. "I am the most loyal servant to the Dark Lord! Do you know who he is?"

Harry _had _heard of him before. He seemed to be a popular subject of conversation with Harry's parents. Him, and the Deatheaters. In fact, much to Harry's pleasure, he knew the _name _of this man which he was pretty sure was Voldemort, even though that didn't sound like much of a name to him. But Harry knew that the Deatheaters and Voldemort were 'always stirring up trouble' as his daddy had told him once. They were 'the wrong sorts of people' and 'the kind of magical folk you didn't want to get involved with.'

Thinking of that, Harry decided to shake his head again. If he didn't know who Voldemort was, than_ he_ couldn't get involved. Right?

This answer seemed to please the lady, Bellatrix. She continued, "It is because of him, it is because of the Deatheaters, it is because of _me_ that your life is now ruined."

Harry swallowed the thick and bitter lump in his throat, backing up into the wall and wishing he could disappear through the thick brick. He'd rather be _anywhere _than here right now. _Anywhere_.

"Before you go, let's give you a little taste of the real world." Her teeth glistened in the light like a lion reveling her fangs as she closed in on her prey. "Crucio!"

Pain shot through Harry's nerves. Hot, burning, raw _pain_. His brain felt like it was being twisted and his eyes felt like they were being pulled out and his spine felt like a prickly thorn poking his intestines and ripping through his skin and everything hurt and everything was on fire and everyth-

It stopped.

He panted, noticing how scratchy his throat was all of the sudden. He felt shaky, and he found his muscles felt life-less as he couldn't find the strength to sit up. But despite the soreness, he felt _relived_ that the pain was gone.

But that didn't stop the anger he hadn't even known he was capable of feeling of pumping through his veins. Rage had consumed every last bit of terror he had. Now, he glared at the woman before him with pure hatred. If he lived through this, he would get revenge on those eating-death people. He would get revenge on _her_.

But that was _if _he stayed alive.

"Say good-bye," She gleefully whispered as her eyes twinkled with insanity.

And with those parting words Harry's vision was engulfed in a blinding green light.

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**A/N:** Good? Bad? What do you think?


	2. Chapter One: Maybe Sprout Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or any songs written by the Mountain Goats.

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**A/N**: This story **is **a dark Harry story. Remember that.

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**A Cold Way Of Getting Warm**

**Chapter One: Maybe Sprout Wings**

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_I clawed my way to the living room window,_

_Stood there in the cold._

_The last bits of my dream like figures in the distance,_

_Hard to hold._

_-__Maybe Sprout Wings, The Mountain Goats_

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**Previously:**

_Rage had consumed every last bit of terror he had. Now, he glared at the woman before him with pure hatred. If he lived through this, he would get revenge on those eating-death people. He would get revenge on her. _

_But that was if he stayed alive._

"_Say good-bye," She gleefully whispered as her eyes twinkled with insanity._

_And with those parting words Harry's vision was engulfed in a blinding green light. _

**CWGW**

(Seven Years Later.)

Harry woke with a start, cold beads of sweat racing down the side of his face. He panted heavily, sitting up in bed, appreciating his warm and safe room with each exhale of air. He grasped his sheets until his knuckles turned white, trying to slow his pounding heart.

_It's okay, you're safe. You're _alive_. _He told himself.

Slowly he relaxed his fingers and fell back into bed looking at the clock, 1:34, as he tried to stop the flashes of his memory that were still replaying themselves over in his mind, even though he was now awake.

However, 'tried' was the key word there. No matter what he thought about, he just couldn't stop the memories replaying in his head.

They really were horrible memories, and just saying that was an understatement. He could still remember feeling the burning pain after he was absorbed in the killing curse. It had hurt so much he had fallen to the floor, luckily appearing dead to Lestrange. And Remus had come in minutes later, catching Lestrange before she could leave the apparating wards, and stunned her. Harry could remember Remus contacting Aurors, who had later appeared to take Lestrange back to Azkaban (being sentenced to more years and the most heavily guarded cell) and question all of the victims and witnesses.

It turned out; Lestrange hadn't been lying about killing Harry's parents and Sirius. Or at least, she hadn't _thought _she was lying. Because she had _thought _she had killed them, but in reality, she had only _tried _to kill Harry's mom, Lily, trying the Entrail-Expelling Curse, failing miserably. Instead of making Lily's inside come out of her, Lestrange only made Lily lose an unhealthy amount of blood. Lestrange left her to bleed to death, apparently in a hurry to get to Harry. With James and Sirius, though, Lestrange had just shot the Avada Kedavra curse. It was weird that she tried a whole different style of killing when it came it Lily. Harry still didn't understand why she hadn't shot his mom with the Avada, not that he wasn't grateful she didn't. But that didn't mean he was glad his mom had suffered – he was just glad she was okay now. He only wished he knew why Lestrange did what she did.

He had asked this to his mom, but the only explanation he had ever received was he same answer he always got when he asked why Lestrange had wanted to kill him and his family in the first place. "She was insane," His mom would say. "She was already sick in her head before Azkaban, but that place just increased her insanity. She had escaped Azkaban and she just stumbled upon our family. It could have never been predicted." And that was all she ever said, but Harry supposed it was a good enough answer. It made sense, it was most likely a sore subject, and there was no reason for his mom to lie.

But…there was also a more selfish reason Harry had for hating the attack. Of course it made his blood boil thinking about the torture and deaths Lestrange had caused…but he _hated _Bellatrix Lestrange for shooting him with the Avada Kedavra. He _hated _the fame she gave him after Harry had lived through the curse, just like Neville Longbottom, The Boy Who Lived. And once the news got out he became just as popular as Neville himself. And Harry _loathed_ that. He _detested _the stares he always got.

He got them everywhere, and it was because of them that he avoided going out in public as much as possible, much to his mom's dismay. But he just couldn't get over how much he _hated _those stares. What were they trying to see anyway? It wasn't like he had a scar to show the proof the curse hit him, like Neville's lightning bolt scar. In fact, the only reason people knew about the killing curse, and was _positive _he survived through it, was because after the attack, he was taken in for questioning. Under veritaserum he had stated a green curse had hit him, and after looking at his memory through a pensive, they could hear Lestrange mutter the fatal words of the third unforgivable. And after that…well, the press went nuts.

He survived the killing curse, so what? It wasn't the first time that happened, and it probably wouldn't be the last. He was just a regular eleven year old! It wasn't like he was the supposed savior of the wizarding world! But _no_, people _just had _to make a big deal about him. They _just had _to call him 'The Other Boy who Lived'. What kind of name was that anyway? What ever happened to original ideas?

Harry rolled his eyes. Witches and wizards had some sort of obsession with titling people. 'You Know Who', 'He Who Must Not Be Named', 'The Boy Who Lived', 'The Other Boy Who Lived'. Honestly!

But he despised Lestrange for the fame. And one day he _would _get his revenge. His revenge for James, Sirius, Lily, and himself. Hell, even old Moony considering the last few years weren't exactly _pleasant_ for him with two of his best mates dead. And when Harry finally faced Bellatrix Lestrange again, he wouldn't show an ounce of fear. He would stand with his back straight, chin high, and wand pointed directly at her heart. He wouldn't be that cowering little boy ever again.

Harry shook his head, trying to rid his thoughts of the painful memories. Why did they have to come back to him in nightmares? It wasn't as if they meant anything. It was just some bad memories, that's all. Bad memories that happened over seven years ago. Why did he get shaken up so badly every time he dreamed of that night?

_Because you almost died. _He answered. _Because you lost two important people that night_.

His green eyes dully stared at the wall ahead of him, only seeing shadows and the dark outlines of objects. It hurt to think about them; his father and Sirius. They shouldn't have died. They didn't _deserve _to die.

But at least his mom made it out alive.

Harry shivered as he remembered what it felt like to believe his family was gone.

He didn't know what would have happened if she died. He probably would have been sent to an orphanage, considering the Ministry would never let Remus take care of him…considering his _condition_. Harry probably would have never gotten over their deaths. He probably would have lived his life only thinking about 'what could have been'. He probably would have lived in fear.

After all, it _was _terrifying…terrifying enough to still haunt him in his dreams.

But, with his mom, he slowly recovered from the attack. His mom was really helpful. He remembered being able to go to her in the middle of the night to just _be _with her, to be comforted. And sometimes she would take him downstairs and give him a glass of milk and a small slice of cake she would always have around. And even when Harry bawled his eyes out, she would never shed any tears, and she would talk about stories with his dad and Sirius until she got him to laugh at one of their ridiculous pranks. She was strong for him when he was weak for her.

Lying there, in the dark, he silently wished he still could go to her, because there was nothing more than he wanted than to be with her now. But he was strong, now. And he didn't want to upset her with his nightmares. He knew it was still a very delicate subject to discuss for no matter how much Lily hid her emotions, Harry knew how distressed she felt when James was mentioned. He only wished he could have seen how much it hurt her when he was little. How upset did she _really _get when she talked about her husband and his best friend for Harry during those middle-of-the-night talks?

Harry knew it must have been terrible for her to comfort a little child while she dealt with her loss. At least Remus was there to help, and still was.

Harry smiled thinking about his werewolf friend. Remus, in a way, was a lot like Sirius-just much more responsible and very quiet. But he had all of those brilliant prank ideas and that mischievous smile…and he was a great person to hang around with.

Not to say that he could ever replace Sirius. No, Padfoot would always have a special place in Harry's heart.

Bloody hell, he sounded like such a girl.

He looked at the clock with a sigh. 1:45…only.

Trying to shrug away the feelings he started to think about what _should _be the center focus of his mind.

Hogwarts.

Tomorrow would be the first day he started Hogwarts, and he couldn't help but feel nervous little bubbles fill his stomach. But who wouldn't be a little anxious? There was so much to worry about! Much more than an eleven year old should have to worry about, at least.

First of all, there was his house. He was _really_ worried about which house he would be sorted into. He really wanted to make his mom and Remus proud. They were both in Gryffindor, and than James and Sirius were both in the Lion House…so wasn't that the obvious house for Harry to get into? How hard could it be, after all? You had to be brave and courageous. Harry could be brave. He could.

But a small voice in the back of his mind couldn't help whispering words of doubt in his mind. After all, if he was so brave, why was he cowering under his sheets like that little four year old boy?

He had to stop thinking that nonsense. It was in his blood to be sorted into that house. He grew up around Gryffindor's for his whole life, and was raised by them. He lived in _Godric's Hollow _for crying out loud!

But that little, stupid, annoying voice was still lingering in the back of his mind asking all sorts of horrible questions, all centering around: What if he didn't get sorted into Gryffindor?

He just…didn't think that was the house for him. He didn't really think _any _house was right for him. If it wasn't for his parents, he wouldn't care where he ended up. He personally didn't really understand splitting up the student body into four teams. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, two schools he heard his mother talking about, seemed like perfectly fine schools, and _they _didn't have houses! Why was Hogwarts different? Harry wasn't positive, but judging by the stories his mom and Remus had told him about their school days, all the houses did was create conflicts and rivals. Surely there were other ways to pick quidditch teams, and different ways to discipline students using other means than taking points?

But what did Harry know? There was probably some reason for having the houses…maybe he would find out during his stay at Hogwarts. He had nine months, after all.

There were those nervous bubbles again…

But _other _than the house issue, there were also the stares he was _so _looking forward to. He just _couldn't wait _for those; he could _barely_ contain his excitement.

Harry snorted and looked at the clock for the hundredth time. 2:03_. _And he had until seven to get up. Five more hours to go. Oh boy.

**MSW**

"Harry! Come on sweetie, it's time to get up."

Groggily, Harry sat up from bed, squinting as he opened his eyes to the bright merciless light of the morning. Rubbing his heavy eyelids, he cursed himself for not getting back to sleep early enough last night. It was close to three by the time Harry finally started to drift back to sleep; meaning he only got to sleep for four hours; not counting the previous sleep he got that caused him to wake up in a cold sweat.

"Harry darling, are you up?" His mother's voice called through the door, accompanied by a few knocks.

"M'up," He mumbled, still rubbing his eyes.

The door opened and Lily came in, sighing as she took in the sight of Harry. "You look a wreck, didn't you get any sleep?"

Harry mentally groaned at the mention of the word, desperately wanting to go back to sleep until noon. Nonetheless, he smiled and reassured her had a full nights sleep.

"Anyway," Lily started, giving Harry a suspicious look. "What do want for breakfast? Pancakes? Waffles? French toast?"

"Cereal," Harry said, smiling at his mom's look of disappointment.

"You and that food," Lily shook her head, and amused smile on her lips. "Okay, it'll be ready in a few minutes. You go make sure to brush your teeth. Don't want any cavities in that cute little smile."

As she left, Harry mumbled, "Yeah, cavities. It's not like they aren't hard to get rid of with _magic. _Flick the wand and _poof_, problem gone." He sighed and grudgingly got out of bed, taking care of all the usual morning necessities.

When he finally made it downstairs he was greeted by a lovely bowl of cereal, cold and all. He sat himself down to eat, saying a quick 'morning' to his mom as she entered the kitchen.

"Morning swe-" She stopped in mid-sentence causing Harry to look up at her bemused. "Harry, _what _are you wearing?"

He looked down at his new robes and didn't find anything wrong with the outfit. "Er, my robes? The _required _robes in the dress code?"

Lily chuckled slightly and said the next thing as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "But that's not what you wear when you go to get on the Hogwarts Express!"

He just stared at her with a blank expression.

"_Harry_, you didn't think you could walk around muggle London like that?"

"Er, what?" He asked, lamely. "Since when are we going to London? I thought we were going to platform nine and three quarters?"

Lily rolled her eyes as she poured herself a cup of coffee. "Really, Harry, we can't just pop up there." Harry was about to counter that argument by saying they could, indeed, pop up there by apparating, but his mom seemed to read his mind and said, "Meaning, that we _could _be we _aren't _because it's your first year at Hogwarts, and you need to walk through the infamous brick wall."

"I don't _have _too," Harry argued. "I don't want to either. Is this why I had to get up so early? Because we have to walk through some stupid wall?"

"It's an experience I want you to have. We'll apparate next year, okay?"

"Why do we have to go to London, anyway? There's a train-station near our house. Isn't the entrance to the platform located in several areas, all across Europe?"

"Only the major cities," Lily replied. "Bristole does have a train-station, but not one with an entrance way. Besides, we aren't driving there. We are apparating to a nearby alleyway with Remus, and then walking a few blocks down. It won't be long at all."

"Remus is coming!?" Harry practically shouted. "Mo-om!" He complained, stressing the word into two syllables. "It isn't _that _big of a deal!"

"It's your first day of school, of course it's a big deal!" She squealed in excitement. "Oh, I just know you'll love it! And the castle is so _big_, and there are hundreds of people there, you'll never feel alone, especially in your house common room."

Harry pounded the spoon into the cereal, grumbling under his breath. "Oh joy, hundreds of kids and thousands of questions. Lovely."

She pursed her lips. "Harry, I know how much you hate attention-"

"Mom," He interrupted, waving his spoon at her. "It's not really the attention. I just hate how they all think it's so cool and awesome to survive the killing curse, when it's the opposite." Really, didn't people have any common sense? Didn't they realize how many horrible memories he had because of it? Well at least Harry knew how the Longbottom boy felt…

"You just have to realize it's a shock." Lily said, pulling a chair up next to her son.

"We've been over this before," He replied, rolling his eyes as he took another bite of cereal.

"One more time won't hurt," She answered. "I want you to understand why people do what they do. They just don't know what to think."

"They've had seven bloody years to think," Harry grumbled, interrupting again.

Lily shot him a glare. "Language, Harry." He muttered a sorry and Lily continued. "It's just…with Neville, he got a nasty scar, and he lived through it because his mother sacrificed herself for him. It's a very complicated style of magic, I'll explain it to you when you're older." Harry rolled his eyes again and Lily went on. "But you don't even have physical proof, which is odd in itself. And no one was there to sacrifice for you."

Harry muttered under his breath, "Sirius was there."

He heard a sharp intake of breath from his mom, but she nevertheless continued. "It just has people puzzled." She finally stated. "They simply stare because they are amazed. It's a compliment, really. And I want you to remember that, because it wouldn't do well to not make friends just because they ask about-" She looked at him in playful exaggeration "-the incident."

Harry went to give her a menacing glare, but didn't quite achieve the look with puffy cheeks from a mouth full of cereal.

Lily smiled lightly, propping her head with her hands. "Just do me a favor and loose that stubborn attitude at school. I don't want to get an owl saying you hexed someone just because they were curious about you."

Harry raised his eyebrows, swallowing the cereal in one big gulp. "So does that mean you won't be mad if I hex someone for other reasons?"

Lily matched his expression. "Nice try. Now hurry up! We don't want you to be late for the big day!"

"Why is it that you're more excited about Hogwarts than me?" Harry asked, observing his mother's to-wide smile and twitching fingers as he finished his last bite of breakfast. "You're smiling so much it's starting to scare me. Wait a minute!" His hands shot up. "Are you just happy that I'm going away? That you finally get me out of you hair for nine months?"

Lily put her hands to her heart in fake shock. "Harry! How ever did you know?"

"Oh I have my ways," he smiled before turning serious. "Seriously, though, why are you being so enthusiastic about all this? It's just school."

"My _little boy_ is starting his _first_ day at school, that's why," Lily ruffled Harry's hair. "Oh I can't wait for you to see Hogwarts! And to get sorted, and to meet frien-"

"Wait, mom." Harry said, feeling his stomach turn. "What if…what if I…" He sucked in a deep breath, trying to find the strength to ask his mom the question. "What if I, er, don't get into a house you're proud of?"

Something flashed across his mom's face, but it was gone as quickly as it came. What emotion was she hiding? Worry? Greif?

"Harry, I'll be proud of you no matter what." And then she smiled a smile that wrinkled the skin around her eyes, and Harry _knew _she was telling him the truth. The nervous bubbling was slightly lifted from his stomach and _a lot _of weight was lifted from his shoulders. "Now go get changed into some muggle clothing," she told him. "Remus should be here any minute. We don't want to be late."

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**A/N:** Sorry, **long **author's note ahead.

First, I just want to apologize for the boring chapter. I had to get some information explained. And because this chapter wasn't the most exciting, you can expect the next chapter to get your adrenaline flowing (or, you know, at least be slightly entertaining.)

Second: I _know _not all the questions have been answered. I know. But what's a story without a little suspense? There's a reason that prologue is important.

Third, I hope I didn't exaggerate Harry's hate for attention too much. I just thought that if Harry had known how big of a deal people thought it was in the books, and if he grew up in the wizarding world with people always staring at him, he wouldn't have been as excited about Hogwarts as he was.

Fourth (Long list, right?): Okay, I know you all probably want to see Lily being that horrible, neglectful, (dare I say bitchy?) person who Harry hates. You all want to see Harry hating her and wanting to get into Slytherin and all that, right? Well, what can I say? I want this story to be realistic (or at least as real you can get with the whole magical concept). In a realistic story, a little boy, Voldemort's son or not, will take comfort in his mom, _especially_, if he went through a very dramatic experience and had to be comforted along the way. Lily _is _being slightly manipulative, but Harry doesn't see that right now.

**But Dark Harry will make his appearance** (if he hasn't already, I mean, _come on_, he'll do anything to cast the Cruciatus Curse on Bella). And I'm sorry for you Lily fans, but she is not going to be Harry's favorite person by the end of this story. I hold true to my plot and summary. Don't you worry folks, I won't disappoint.

And remember, just because Harry wants Gryffindor doesn't mean he'll get it.

On to other business…

**PLEASE READ:**

Someone asked me about what parings what be in this story. The only problem with that question is that I don't know myself. I was originally going to not have any pairings to keep everyone happy. People just like so many different parings, it's hard to please everyone, and I wanted to try to avoid those parings and focus on the Voldemort/Harry father/son relationship.

But I am writing this story to please readers (I mean, seriously - that's one big reason as to why we all have fan fiction), so I want your opinions on if there should be parings in this story. I can actually see the story going either way (and both ways are excellent, if I do say so myself).

**Please leave a review saying if there should, or shouldn't, be parings in this story.**

I will take all your opinions into consideration…really.


	3. Chapter Two: Get Lonely

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or any songs written by the Mountain Goats.

* * *

"Talking"

'Thoughts/Sorting Hat'

* * *

**A Cold Way Of Getting Warm**

**Chapter Two: Get Lonely **

* * *

_And I will find a crowd and blend in for a minute,_

_And I will try to find a little comfort in it._

_And I will get lonely and gasp for air._

_-__Get Lonely, The Mountain Goats_

* * *

**Previously:**

"_Harry, I'll be proud of you no matter what." And then she smiled a smile that wrinkled the skin around her eyes, and Harry knew she was telling him the truth. The nervous bubbling was slightly lifted from his stomach and a lot of weight was lifted from his shoulders. "Now go get changed into some muggle clothing," she told him. "Remus should be here any minute. We don't want to be late."_

**CWGW**

He only let himself relax once he was sitting inside the train.

Getting to platform nine and three quarters proved harder than it was originally thought. The trip started off okay. Remus had come and greeted him, reminding Harry where the kitchens and secrete passageways were when Lily had her back turned. He also shrunk Harry's trunk to make transportation easier.

But even with the shrunken trunk tucked safely in Moony's pocket the journey to platform nine and three quarters was anything but easy.

First of all, even though it was a legal spot for wizards to apparate too, when they literally popped out of thin air, a muggle happened to see them. This caused a ten minute delay as they had to hold off the muggle from leaving, by using no magic, until a ministry official showed up and oblivated the muggle.

After that scene, which the ministry worker assured them happened all the time, his mom was in even more of a rush to get to the train, still refusing to just apparate to the destination. So they ran along the streets of London, bumping into a few people on their way, until finally getting to the train station, where much to his mom's delight, they walked through the brick wall.

And then Remus went on the train with him, returning Harry's trunk to the normal size, and wished Harry a good year. And after waving to his mother from the window, the train left the station.

Harry closed his eyes and let the soothing rhythm of the trains motions take him into relaxation.

But his eyes snapped open as he heard the compartment door slide open.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" A red-headed boy asked him, sliding the door close and sitting down not waiting for an answer.

"Go ahead," Harry responded. He awkwardly drummed his fingers as the two boys sat in silence.

"Er, so what's your name?" The red-head asked him. "Mine's Ron. Ron Weasley."

Harry hesitated before responding. "Harry, nice to meet you."

"Harry?" Ron questioned, his face scrunching up as he thought before his eyes widened. "Not like, not like Harry _Potter_?"

Looking at the ceiling in clear frustration Harry nodded, hoping the boy would take it as a sign to drop the subject. Unfortunately for Harry, Ron seemed completely oblivious and started to ramble on in an excited voice, "I can't believe I'm in the same year as _Harry Potter_ and I heard Neville Longbottom is here too! That's so cool! Do you think you'll both get in the same house? Do you think _we'll _get in the same house?" His eyes were bulging in excitement, and Harry decided he'd try one more time to get off this topic.

"Er, I guess that depends. What house are you trying for?" Harry asked him.

Ron rolled his eyes, "Well Gryffindor, of course! Best house there is, you know. Ravenclaws all about smarts, and the Hufflepuffs aren't nearly as brave. And then there's Slytherin." Ron made a face of disgust.

"What's so bad about Slytherin?" Harry asked. His mom had never really talked about the other houses. Only Gryffindor.

Ron was shocked. "What's so bad about them!? Are you kidding me! They're a bunch of slimy gits!"

Harry shuffled in his seat, nervously. "Isn't that being a little stereotypical?"

"Stero-what?" Harry just shook his head with a quiet 'nevermind.' "Well, you don't have to worry about that anyway," Ron said. "You're bound to be in Gryffindor! You're just like Neville and _he _can't go anywhere else but with the lions. Besides, houses tend to run in families. I know pretty much everyone in my family was in Gryffindor. Weren't your parents both in that house?"

But Harry didn't answer, instead he quietly got up on his feet and left the compartment, slamming the sliding door shut on his way out, hearing the muffled voice of one Weasley calling out, "Hey! Where are you going? You forgot your trunk!"

But there was no way in hell Harry was turning back to talk with that red-headed idiot…besides, first years didn't need to carry their trunks off the train, so it wouldn't really matter if his trunk remained in the storage of that compartment.

Harry groaned.

So far, so bad. He had hoped with Neville on the train, people wouldn't glance at him twice. Apparently, it only caused more commotion.

Honestly, though, it was just annoying how people like Ron thought they knew everything about him! That was the main thing that bothered him. He didn't want that Avada curse following him his whole life. He didn't want to be labeled. He only wanted to be Harry. Just plain old Harry.

He glanced through the compartments, looking for an empty seat that was at least surrounded by people in his year. He walked down the hall glancing in the windows. He passed two full compartments and one full of seventh years when he finally came to an almost-full compartment of what was clearly first years.

He slid the door open and stuck his head in. "Would you mind if I sit here?"

The five boys looked up at him and a tall and skinny boy gave him a nod, "Sure, go ahead."

Harry muttered a quick thanks and slid into the only open seat across from a dark skinned boy with elevated cheekbones.

Noticing all to well the awkward silence that arrived with him, Harry scratched the back of his neck. "Er, sorry about this. I was just in a compartment with this annoying red-head who wouldn't stop pestering me about the houses."

The boy who invited him laughed, and said, "Sounds like a Weasley. Was he in our year?"

Harry nodded, glad that at least one person didn't mind having him here, and a bit uneasy that four other people were.

"Just what the world needs, another Weasley," A pointed nose blonde boy next to Harry sighed. He turned toward Harry, "I don't blame you moving." He put his hand out. "I'm Draco Malfoy."

Praying this conversation wouldn't turn out as bad as the last Harry shook Draco's hand. "Harry Potter."

"No wonder the Weasley got excited with you," The boy from across from him stated. "You're probably the first person he's ever talked to with an important social status. I'm Blaise by the way. Blaise Zabini."

"And I'm Theodore Nott," Announced the first boy who talked to him before Harry could put in any word. "Those two are Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle." He motioned his head to the two sleeping forms by the windows. "The taller one is Greg."

And after the introductions were tossed around, the atmosphere seemed to lighten. Things still got a little tense here and there, but other than those small awkward moments, Harry enjoyed himself. Not once was the 'incident' brought to conversation, and not once did they assume they knew Harry. He was a kid among kids, laughing and joking.

And before he knew it, the train ride was over.

**CGL**

They exited in plain black robes, which would, of course, change to represent their houses after the sorting. Harry stepped off the train and was met with the cool and chilling breeze of the nighttime. The older kids started heading towards the right, down a dirt road where horseless carriages were waiting. But where was he suppose to go?

"Firs' years! Firs' years this way!"

Harry turned his head towards the booming voice and saw a rather large man with a long and scraggily beard beckoning the first year students over to the base of a lake. Once he was closer, Harry noticed the seat-less boats evenly lined up along the shore of the lake, ready to board people. The boats were raggy looking and small, expect for a wide one that was, what Harry assumed was, for the giant man.

A small group of first years formed around the man Hagrid, as he had introduced himself. He told the students to get into the boats, and handed out one lantern per boat even though the light wasn't necessary for steering considering the boats controlled themselves.

On the boats, he made sure to share one with Draco, Theodore, and Blaise.

"Why do you suppose first years have to take a boat ride?" Theodore asked from his seat in the back of the boat in the middle of the ride. "Why a _boat _ride?"

"Well, first years have to be separated from everyone else so they can be sorted," Harry said, ignoring the _bump _of the boat as it passed over a floating log.

"Yes, but you'd think they could at least afford better boats than these old things," Blaise sneered from his position in front. "They could _at least _have a place to hang the lantern so students didn't have to hold them. My arm is getting tired!"

"If you think these boats are bad, you should see the brooms." Draco said from next to Harry. "Father says half of them are broken, and a right danger to ride. The wood is chipped and the bristles are all twisted and bent. You know brooms have to be in perfect shape to work properly. They're hard enough to control with no flaws, imagine how dangerous they are here! Too many things at Hogwarts need improvement."

The other boys nodded in agreement, but Harry couldn't see why they were trying to find any flaws with this place. From the view ahead of him, Hogwarts looked pretty brilliant to him, out-of-style brooms or not. And judging by his mother's excitement, and Remus' stories, the inside would be pretty spectacular too.

Ignoring another bump coming from his side of the boat, Harry decided to keep the conversation going. "But what about our flying lessons? I mean, we'll have to use the school's brooms since we aren't allowed our own. You think there's a chance we'll crash because of a faulty broom?"

"No worries Harry," Theodore answered. "Just make sure to get to the lesson early so you can pick out one of the better brooms."

"When _are_ the lessons?" Blaise asked as another _thump _hit the side of the boat.

Draco shrugged. "I suppose they'll be during our free period, whenever that is. But we get our timetable tomorrow, so we'll probably be able to predict the lesson then."

Another bump hit Harry's side of the boat, harder and more pronounced than the other ones, and Harry was starting to get a little nervous, if not annoyed. He bent his head over the side of the boat to find the source of the noise, but with little to no light he couldn't seem to see anything through the already thick and foggy water.

"What are you looking for Harry?" Draco asked curiously, causing Harry to sit back up and turn around.

"Something keeps hitting the boat," He said. "It's hit the same spot four times already!"

"I haven't felt anything," Blaise said, but still looked down at the water on Harry's side of the boat. "Maybe it's a stick or something. The water's filthy enough."

"That's what I thought," Harry murmured, peering over the boat once more. "But I haven't seen one piece of debris on the surface of the lake."

"Well…you know what's _in _the lake, don't you?" Draco asked with an eyebrow raised.

"What do you mean?"

"There's a giant squid that lives here," Draco stated. "Right at the bottom of this lake." Draco smiled and teased lightly, "Maybe it's hitting against the boat because it wants to eat you."

Even though the thought was ridiculous, Harry couldn't help but fell his stomach sink at the idea.

"Yeah right," Theodore snorted. "The squid has to be the friendliest creature on the Hogwarts grounds. It helps bring student back to shore when they fall in the lake, not the other way around. I heard it even heard it tosses the quaffle back and forth with students who go to the shore."

That made Harry breathe a quiet sigh of relief.

"Yeah, and the school government wouldn't have let some harmful animal live on Hogwarts grounds." Blaise said. "At least, not so close to the castle. Usually the dangerous animals are kept in the forbidden forest."

"Yeah, exactly," Theodore said, leaning back with his eyes closed.

"Uh, but you guys," Draco said, his eyes widening slightly. "I think I see a tentacle."

Theodore laughed, and thumped Draco on the back. "Good one Dray."

"No-no…really." He stuttered. "Harry move!"

Harry was about to turn around when Blaise said, "Yeah right," without even bothering to turn, and Harry suddenly realized Draco was trying to pull a prank on him. "Didn't you _just _hear what we said? The squid is harmless."

"Harry MOVE!" Draco shouted, grabbing Harry's right arm, pulling him away from the side of the boat.

That was when Harry suddenly felt something wet and slimly grip onto his left wrist. Without any time to yell, or shout, or show any kind of shock, he was swiftly pulled over the edge of the boat in one tug.

The last thing he heard was Hagrid crying out, "Galloping gargoyles!" before his body was engulfed in freezing water.

**CGL**

Being dragged underneath the Black Lake by a giant squid's tentacle sounded just about as pleasant as it actually was.

Harry couldn't make out anything under the water. Maybe it was because there was no light, maybe it was because the Black Lake was an all too accurate name. But the fact remained; Harry couldn't see _anything _but he could certainly _feel _a few tentacles wrapping around his limbs.

He could also feel his lungs filling up with water as he tried to take a breath.

He tried to claw his way upwards, or in the direction he _thought _was up, but the tentacles that were hooked around him tightened painfully so and started to pull on his arms and legs until it felt they were going to pop off his body.

It hurt so _much_.

He couldn't ignore the pain anymore. He couldn't find the energy to fight. He was going to _die_, Merlin's beard, he was going to _die_.

The water surrounding him pressured down on his body, literally suffocating him. His lungs were empty of oxygen and filled with water. His head was light. Everything was cold. So cold…

Except for a small warmness that he couldn't locate coming from within his body. He didn't even know what it was, but it felt so comforting. Felt…so…good…

Harry clutched onto that feeling; holding onto it desperately. And, he realized, the harder he focused on it, the more warmth he felt. The more power surged through his veins. And in his last seconds of consciousness he realized that power was his magic. That that magic could save him.

As Harry's eyes closed he felt the glowing warmth send a ripple of its magic through his body.

And the tentacles released their cruel pressure from his arms in shock, sending him to the surface of the water during the process.

He coughed and gagged as water spurted out of his lungs.

Eyes wide, Harry desperately gasped for air.

**CGL**

Everything between breathing the first, oh-so-sweet, breath after his underwater escapade with the squid to being carried to the Hogwarts infirmary passed in one long blur. The only memories Harry had of those moments were faint calls of concerns from groups of people and jolts of pain stinging through his arms and legs.

But once a disgusting potion was poured down his throat, the world seemed to brighten as a thick and hazy fog was lifted from his head.

"Now hold still dear, this will sting slightly."

Harry turned his head to see an elderly woman with graying hair pouring a greenish liquid onto some large welts he had embedded into his left wrist. As she applied the liquid an even more fierce burning sensation spread through his arm, but amazingly the welts decreased in size, but did not fully disappear.

"What are you doing?" He asked her as she rushed to his other side, and repeated the action on another set of bumps on his opposite wrist.

"That squid had a nice tight hold on you dear," She responded, ignoring the slight hiss of pain Harry gave when the potion touched his skin. "It released a few toxins into your skin, but don't worry. Nothing serious, nothing I can't fix. I'm Madam Pomfrey by the way."

She went around to Harry's feet and started to apply the liquid to one of his ankles. Harry clutched his robes as the burning spread to his thigh. But after the pain died away, he realized something; his robes were dry. She must have dried them with a quick charm, something Harry was very thankful for. At least now, when he returned, he wouldn't be soaking wet.

She finished adding the green potion to his welts.

"Now I want you to add this to your injuries once a day," She told him, handing him a jar of cream. "It isn't as intense as the Skin Refurbish I just gave you, but after about three days your ankles and wrists should be as good as new." Frowning, she said, "I'd normally want to keep my patients for longer than ten minutes, but the Headmaster insists you be sorted before the night is over, so as soon as the feast is done I want you to come back here so I can do one final check-over okay? And if at any point you feel light-headed, you come straight to me."

Harry nodded, pocketing the balm, wondering if he'd even be able to _find _the infirmary again, much less the Great Hall which he was expected to get to for the sorting.

As if reading his mind she told him, "Go straight to the end of this hall and go down two floors, than follow the suits of armors until you get to the huge doors of the Great Hall. If you get lost ask a portrait, they are always generous with helping the first years."

Harry thanked her and exited the hospital wing; following the directions he was given. The portraits _did _prove to be very helpful and pointed him down the path he was already traveling, giving him more confidence that he was getting closer to the Great Hall.

In fact, Harry was so focused on getting to the sorting, that he paid no thoughts to what would happen when he _got_ to the sorting.

That was at least true until he got to the unmistakable giant doors Madam Pomfrey was talking about. It was now his heart pounded hard in his rib cage as nerve-racking thoughts swarmed his mind.

But he pushed those thoughts back, and pushed the doors open, just in time to see Blaise, the last first year standing besides himself, sit down at the applauding Slytherin table.

But all too soon people's heads starting turning his way.

Turning a light shade of red, Harry walked the all too long walk from down the Great Hall. Not being able to stop his wandering eyes, his gaze fell over a few familiar faces sitting along various tables. He noticed the Weasley got what he wished for and was sitting among the Gryffindors. A bushy haired girl Harry had seen when boarding the boats, had landed herself in Ravenclaw. Harry also noted that the famous Neville Longbottom was sitting next to her, meaning he also got in Ravenclaw. Turning his head, Harry saw Draco, Theodore – everyone he rode with on the train, ended up in Slytherin.

Harry reached the stool.

The professor standing next to the stool, who wore dark emerald robes and had her hair tied up in a tight bun, gave him a stern look, as if blaming him for being late because a giant squid had attacked him.

"Potter, Harry," she called, scrolling up the list as she announced the final name.

Harry walked to the threatening stool and sat down, feeling the sorting hat cover his eyes from the staring students before him.

The hat spoke first. _'Interesting, very interesting_.' It was weird, having the hat talk to him. Instead of speaking, it was like he transferred what he wanted to say into Harry's mind. It was the after effects of hearing something, without actually hearing it.

'_Interesting?' _Harry gulped.

Ignoring his question, the hat continued. '_So where should I put you? Where do you belong?'_

'_Gryffindor,' _Harry thought. _'That's where I'm supposed to go.'_

'_Is it now?' _The hat replied thoughtfully. _'Why do you think that?'_

Harry gulped again. _'Erm, it's in my blood, I guess. And I, er, I'm brave. What other house would I go to?'_

There was a pause before the hat seemed to chuckle. _'Gryffindor is not the house for you.'_

Harry began to panic. _'What do you mean?'_

'_You only want to be in Gryffindor to avoid conflict with other people. Wouldn't you rather go to a house where you belong? A house where you can make friends and explore your strengths in magic?'_

He didn't know what to say. _'Why can't Gryffindor be that house?'_

The sorting hat sighed. _'Because that isn't where you really want to go. Now do you want the house you belong in, or a house you'll regret going to in a few years, if not a few hours?'_

Harry hesitated, really putting some thought into that question. He didn't know if he should trust the hat. Where was a charmed piece a clothing to say he didn't belong in the house of his parents? Then again, everyone else seemed happy with their houses, so the hat was obviously a good judge when it came to this topic. It was _made _for this purpose. So shouldn't he just let the hat sort him?

Going somewhere other than Gryffindor couldn't be that bad, right? It _was _just a house…right?

But then his mother's voice came into his head. _"Harry, I'll be proud of you no matter what."_ And remembering that, Harry decided he didn't need Gryffindor if he didn't belong there.

'_Sort me,' _Harry finally told the hat. _'Whatever house you think is best for me, that's where I'll go.'_

'_We'll if you're sure about that, you better go to' – _"SLYTHERIN!"

The only applause coming from the audience came from the Slytherin table.

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**A/N**: Well, at least _one _thing Lily said resulted in some good.

I know you all are most likely wondering about why some people ended up where they did (Like Neville in Ravenclaw), but they will be explained later! I didn't randomly screw around with people and the houses their known for for no reason. It's important to the plot of the story, that's the only explanation you're getting for now.

Same goes for the squid attack.


	4. Chapter Three: New Monster Avenue

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or any songs written by the Mountain Goats.

* * *

**A/N**: Eh, read the one at the end of the chapter.

* * *

**A Cold Way Of Getting Warm**

**Chapter Three: New Monster Avenue **

* * *

_Birds in the frosty air, what are they doing there?_

_Greenhouse full of butchers' brooms, _

_Breezes at my back._

_Sometime before the sun comes up, _

_The Earth is gonna crack._

_I look down at my hands, like they were mirrors._

_-__New Monster Avenue, The Mountain Goats_

* * *

**Previously:**

'Sort me,' _Harry finally told the hat. _'Whatever house you think is best for me, that's where I'll go.'

'We'll if you're sure about that, you better go to' _– "SLYTHERIN!" _

_The only applause coming from the audience came from the Slytherin table._

**CWGW**

As Harry sat down at the Slytherin table, Draco patted him on the back, congratulating him. Theodore gave him a thumbs up, and Blaise smiled slightly, a dazed look shadowing his face.

Perfectly aware of the stares and bemused expressions he was receiving Harry gave a crooked smile. "What?"

Draco just shook his head with the hint of a smile on his face while Theodore rolled his eyes. But if they had anything to say, they didn't have time to say it, as Dumbledore rose from his chair.

"Welcome to yet another year at Hogwarts," he bellowed. "Before we all settle down and enjoy the welcoming feast, I would like to say a few words. Butterwig, locustchip, glubworm, and bittletwirl. Enjoy."

Harry scrunched his eyebrows together, wondering if those words were _even _words. But he hadn't had too much time to dwell, for his attention was soon attracted to the silver rimed plates full of dozens of different mouth-watering food. There was lamb, pork-chops, honey-glazed hams, fried chicken, roasted turkey, and peppermint patties. Five-flavored gravies littered the tables, and at least thirty different sauces were available. Peas, carrots, broccoli, both mashed and backed potatoes…every possible vegetable known to man had to be present on a 5 foot wide platter that sat in the middle of the table.

Harry began to fill his plate.

"I've got to say it, Harry. I'm surprised." Blaise blurted out before taking a bite of the turkey. "A Potter in Slytherin! And the Other Boy Who lived to top it off."

He grimaced at the name but was saved from responding when Draco said, "We'll everyone's surprised. Harry in Slytherin, Longbottom in Ravenclaw – I mean, did you _see _Dumbledore's face when they were both sorted? He looked…" Draco paused, his goblet in hand, as he seemed to search for the right word.

Theodore looked at him expectantly before offering, "Angry?"

Draco snapped his fingers and held his cup up in a cheering gesture. "Yes! Thanks for that."

Blaise shook his head. "No, he looked angry throughout the whole feast. Like something was bothering him. Hey, maybe he was upset about the squid attack?" He looked at Harry. "It _was _a squid, right?"

Harry looked exasperated. "No, I decided to take a swim," He said sarcastically.

"Yeah, Zabini!" Theodore said, smacking Blaise on the head. "You were _there_. Shouldn't you know this already?"

Blaise raised his hands defensively. "I only saw Harry get tugged under water. And you know how people talk! Half of the first years are already convinced a swarm of merepeople circled our boat and kidnapped you, and you escaped by stealing one of their weapons and taking one hostage to get you back to the surface of the water safely.

Theodore snorted. "And you are apart of that half, apparently."

"I never said I believed it!" Blaise argued with a small whine in his voice. "I'm just asking what happened. It's not everyday someone gets pulled under a lake by some monster." He eyed the angry red welts along Harry's wrists and quietly asked, "Did that hurt?"

Harry shrugged as he pulled his cloak farther down his arms.

"Sorry," He said quickly. "I didn't mean to pry. I mean, I know what it's like being pestered with uncomfortable questions."

Harry looked at him questioningly.

"Harry," Theodore said. "You were probably wondering how we, you know, weren't jumping on you with questions. You see, I think everyone in the Slytherin house know what it's like to, as Blaise put it, be pestered with uncomfortable questions. The Slytherins probably have the most complex family history in the school." His voice got quiet. "I mean, I've seen my mom die. And a lot of people who associate with my family have always asked me the details about it. But I can't remember, and the memories I have are from such an earlier stage in my life, they aren't clear enough to be looked at in a pensive or anything. I don't know much about that sort of magic, though."

"Theodore-" Harry started, but was interrupted by the same person whose name he voiced.

"Harry, please, we're all Slytherins. You all call me Teddy, but only among us snakes mind you."

Harry gave an amused look but still said, "I'm sorry that happened."

"Don't be," Teddy smiled. "I never knew her. I was two when it happened."

"The point is," Draco drawled, "We don't know how you feel, and we don't think we know how you feel. Growing up with families like ours makes us like that."

"Which makes us completely _awesome_," Blaise gave a toothy smile.

"Which makes us mature," Draco stated with his chin slightly raised, causing the other first year boys around him to snort and cover there nose to try and stop pumpkin juice form coming out of their nose.

Rolling his eyes at them, Draco stated, "And that's just another reason that you belong here with us. But let's get off this topic. It's a bit too bleak for the first feast at Hogwarts."

With murmurs of agreements passed around the table, Harry ignored his slight curiosity about what the others were hiding from their past and asked, "Okay, well, how about the professors? I know about McGonagall, Flitwick, and Snape – oh, and Binns as well. But that's it. Who else is there?"

"Hmm…well, I think it's Professor Sprot-"

"Sprout!" Teddy piped up.

"Fine then! Professor _Sprout_ is teaching Herbology. There she is up there, to the right of Flitwick." Draco motioned with his head to the Head Table. "A bit plump and rosy cheeks. She's supposed to be good, but she tends to favor her own house. Like that isn't new."

So now Harry knew the professors for Transfiguration, Potions, herbology, History of Magic, and Charms. What else was there? "Hmm…So what about Defense?"

"That would be Quirrell," Blaise snorted. "And what a joke he is, too. Afraid of everything, including us. And his stutter is enough to give anyone a bad headache."

"Well he must know what he's talking about, even if he's frightened of it." Harry reasoned, taking a swig of his pumpkin juice.

Blaise shrugged. "Maybe, but if he does know anything on his subject, he's afraid to say it out loud. I mean, I met him in the middle of the Summer at a gathering for the School Board Committee meeting. Someone was asking about Boggarts, you know about them right?" Harry nodded. Anyone who grew up in a magical household ran into a Bogart problem at sometime or another when Spring Cleaning came around. "Yeah, well, anyway, maybe his Bogart is to frightening, but he couldn't even tell this person how to get rid of one!"

That did sound rather odd. Even Harry at least knew that it was laughter that got rid of Boggarts. He _was _only a first-year, and wasn't sure of the right incantation, but Quirrell was a trained teacher! Was he really that clueless own his own subject? "So why was he even hired?" Harry asked.

"Well, he's taught here before, or so father says," Draco stated. "He left for a year to go to the Amazon to get a first-hand experience of what is was like to face dark creatures. That's a fact. But the rumor starts with after he arrived there, because no one really knows what happened."

Intrigued Harry pressed, "So what's the rumor? How believable is it?"

"Well, the rumor is he ran into some vampires," Draco said with a raised eyebrow. "Had a nasty encounter with them, they say. He even thinks this one vampire will come for him, which is why, supposedly, he wears the turban. Quirrell claims the turban was given to him by some tribe to repel the vamp. But everyone else says he keeps garlic in it because he has _too much class _to wear necklaces of it."

"The smell coming from that turban is enough to make you believe the tale," Theodore said. "Wait until you get a whiff of it in class tomorrow. It smells _horrible_."

A girl that was next to Teddy suddenly turned around. She had thick black hair and a square face. "Are you guys talking about Quirrell's turban?"

Theodore laughed and nudged Harry with his elbow. "See Harry? Anyone who's been near that thing automatically thinks of it when they hear that something smells."

"But it doesn't just smell," Blaise said. "Really. It seems likes he's hiding something in there, and I'm not talking about garlic."

The girl wrinkled her nose. "His turban smells fishy. And I don't just mean metaphorically. It actually smells like rotten fish!" She shivered, before smiling and holding her hand out. "I'm Pansy by the way."

"Harry," He told her. "Nice to meet you." He took her hand, which he awkwardly shook with his arm bent trying to avoid the stacked peppermint hamburgers. She soon turned away with, joining in on her own conversation once more. Harry looked at Blaise. "Why do you think Quirrell's hiding something?"

Blaise shrugged. "Just a feeling."

Harry felt his neck hairs prickle and his voice lowered, the loud chattering in the Great Hall seeming no more significant or louder than a quiet hum. "What do you think he's hiding?"

"I don't know." He sighed. "But he _is _hiding _something_.

Looking up at the professor Harry couldn't help but feel that he was right.

**NMA**

The rest of the meal consisted of jokes, predications of what classes would be like, and the very delicious treacle tart that Harry couldn't get enough of. But as the desert dishes cleared, and not even the smallest crumb was left on the table, he remembered he had to go to Madam Pomfrey to be checked up on. Harry felt it was completely unnecessary considering he felt perfectly fine. But considering the consequences he reasoned the smartest option was to go.

"Er, who's the prefect?" Harry asked to no one in particular, thinking maybe one of the prefects could come with him and show him where the Slytherin Common Rooms were after the check-up.

"I don't know," Draco answered with a shrug. "Why?"

"Madam Pomfrey wanted me to go back to the Hospital Wing after the feast." He told him with a defeated voice. "But the problem is, I don't know where the Slytherin Common rooms are. I wouldn't know where to go afterwards."

"Well, there's two prefects," Draco said.

"And that information isn't very helpful unless you say _which _two," Harry mocked.

"He's got a point there," Theodore chuckled, hitting Draco playfully on the arm. He turned his head down the table and called, "Oye!" An older Slytherin turned to look at him. "Who's the prefect?"

"Just see Marcus Flint," She told them. "Right at the end of the table, see? The girl next to him is a prefect too," she rolled her eyes. "You see them, right? The people wearing those silver prefect badges on their robes?"

"_Well_," Teddy said exasperated as he turned back to the other first years. "Isn't she nice?"

Harry ignored them, looking down the table, trying to see who the girl was talking about over dozens of heads and piles of stacked food. He was about to get up and Marcus Flint when the Headmaster stood up and cleared his throat. Everyone immediately silenced.

"Now, before we all get a much deserved sleep, we must quickly review a few elementary rules. First, may I remind previous students, and warn the new ones, that the Forbidden Forest is forbidden for a reason. Also, Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you all that magic is to be used in the classrooms, and only the classrooms during the day. And finally, the third floor corridor is _strictly off limits_." This seemed to be the one statement that made his eyes loose that famous twinkle, but it was back very soon as everyone sung the school song. Shortly after that he dismissed the students.

With an odd feeling turning in his stomach, Harry glanced away from the Headmaster, and suddenly found his empty plate very fascinating. Something about Dumbledore made his skin crawl, but he wasn't sure what. Dumbledore was, after all, angry about his near-death experience, and he was now looking very sincere and kind. But there was still something that made Harry want to edge further down the table, away from the man.

"Hel-lo? Harry?" Draco's voice caught his attention. Harry looked up. "Don't you need to go to the hospital wing?"

That was right, Harry remembered, glad to have something new on his mind. He quickly got up, and started scanning the rows of people, looking for the silver prefect badge. He finally found the badge, but it was on the robes of a very rough, muscular student whose looks would intimidate any eleven year old.

"Excuse me, Prefect Flint?" Harry asked a little timidly. "I was told to return to the Hospital Wing by Madam Pomfrey after the feast. I know where the Hospital is, but I don't know where the Slytherin Common rooms are."

The prefect nodded. "Very well," he answered, standing. He turned to the other prefect. "Charlotte, would you inform the professor about this?"

She reassured she would. Harry and Flint walked in silence to the Hospital Wing.

**NMA**

The walk coming back from the Hospital Wing was as silent as the walk going towards the Wing. Harry had to admit, at least now he had become some sort of expert on the area in-between the hospital and the great hall. He knew exactly which steps to skip on the staircase, and he had memorized the doors he had passed.

Once they were back on the ground floor Flint lead him past the doors to the Great Hall, to a smaller set of doors leading downwards. As he walked down the steps he could feel the jar of balm Madam Pomfrey had given him for the welts during his first visit to her. He had to use it before bed each day so there wouldn't be any risk of infection. But, as she explained only minutes ago, since the wound was caused by a magical creature, she couldn't give him anything to actually hide the scars of the welts. The only thing that would make them disappear would be time. Her previous statement about his wrists being "good as new" meant no pain and no risks of getting any worse.

After explaining that in full detail, she determined that Harry needed another does of the Skin Refurbish, in potion form. After chugging down the revolting liquid, Flint and Harry thanked her and left.

Flint stopped him as they came off the stairs, and paused, looking as if he were listening for something. Harry perked his ears, and also, heard very faint whispering coming from the top of the stairs.

"Great, students already trying to cause trouble," He murmured. He turned towards Harry, and talked in a quiet voice. "I need to go take care of _that_," Prefect Flint told him, looking at the staircase with an annoyed expression. "Just head straight down the passage and when you come to the turns take three rights and a left. After that say the password, which is 'the Porlock guards Salazar's horse.' You got that?"

"Take two rights, one left, the Porlock guards Salazar's horse," Harry recited back in the same hushed tone.

"Okay, hurry then," He told Harry. Flint started to climb the staircase, and the last Harry heard of him was him muttering, "Probably those damn twins again…"

Harry began to walk down the corridor in the same direction that Flint pointed him towards. But by the time he had taken his second turn and was far from Flint, Harry had found that he had less than half the confidence he had started with. He began questioning his memory, and doubting the directions he was given were even right.

Harry sighed. Hogwarts was beginning to offer more than he could handle.

Harry took yet another turn, this time walking down the more menacing corridor against his better judgment. _Flint had better have told me the right pathway to the common room, _Harry thought once more, resisting the urge to shiver as the thick atmosphere clogged up his lunges.

But he had had at least a small bit of hope that he had been going in the right direction until he came across a three-way split the hallway took. This was supposed to be his last turn, and that turn was suppose to be a left. He had absolutely no idea at which passage to take; the middle, or the far left? The middle might have been wrong, but the far left passage could be _too _left. So Harry decided to let his instincts guide him right down the middle section.

Ten minutes passed, and Harry was in extreme trepidation…and annoyance, but he was mainly feeling uneasy, his stomach clenching in nerves. By now he couldn't even retrace his steps if he tried. The dungeons were unpleasant and unfamiliar, and for an eleven year old accustomed to staying locked in his room, they seemed as big as the world. And although he knew no defensive spells (or at least the correct incantations), Harry had a constant grip on his wand as he stalked further into the shadows of the unknown, as an odd feeling of vulnerability lingered around his persona.

He continued walking, lost in his thoughts, when he suddenly stumbled, running face to face into…a wall.

He felt his cheeks grow hot, and not just because of the impact with the wall. How could he have been so foolish as to run into a _wall_? He had looked up only seconds ago, and he could have sworn the hallway had continued much farther…

His hands reached out to examine the dead-end. The stone was rough, and nipped the tip of his finger, staining the rock with a small smear of blood.

Perhaps the shadows had cast an illusion-

"Mr. Potter!"

Harry jumped, and turned, not seeing anything but darkness.

"Mr. Potter!" He heard again, coming from down the hallway. He quickly followed the echoes, taking two turns he had not remembered taking, when he found Flint.

"Did you even think to listen to the directions I gave you?" He grabbed Harry's shoulder and motioned him forward with a fast pace. "Just take three rights and a left. How hard is that?"

Harry gulped. "I did that. Only there was a three-way split with the last turn…"

"What are you going on about?" The prefect asked. "A three-way split? That potion must be messing with your head." He sighed, his tone _slightly _lightening. "I suppose I should have taken it in account that the potion could clog your thoughts up. Come now, everyone will already by unpacked and in bed. And you of all people should be getting your rest."

They walked the rest of the way in silence, Harry's mind wrapped around that mysterious wall and three-way split in the hallway. He _wasn't _having hallucinations, there wasn't _anything _wrong with his head, he knew what he had seen…and it was defiantly as foul as the smell on the back of Quirrell's turban. It was improbable to think they were connected, really, what was the chance?

Hogwarts just had an abundance of mysterious, which would hopefully revel themselves in the future.

Surprisingly, Harry and Flint soon arrived what must have been the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Of course, Harry was rather doubtful. All he saw was the slightly damp, blank wall of the dungeon…which he was frankly sick of seeing. But Flint was obviously thinking different thoughts. And, of course, Harry _was _in Hogwarts. Anything was possible.

"You remember the password don't you?"

"Er, the Porlock guards Salazar's horse?" Harry responded.

He watched as the wall seemed to compress in a single spot, a rectangular hole forming that had to be at least seven feet high.

As he entered he felt a comforting sensation overwhelm his body. Of course, this could have been the result of being trapped in the pits of the dungeons, but the "why" didn't mater at this moment. So Harry just had the ghost of a smile on his face as he took in the sight, and positive atmosphere.

The room was very long, with two fireplaces at each end. A fire was burning in both stone fireplaces, and around both there were dark green chairs, with cotton matching pillows placed on top them. There were various tables and desks set around the room along the walls, with clusters of oak chairs surrounding them, which Harry could only assume were for study groups. A silver and green oriental rug stretched almost across the entire room, and was centered, so that one could see the dark, mahogany wood of the floor, where the floor meet the walls. Candles hung in the air, scattered across the ceiling, resembling the floating candles in the Great Hall. The only difference was that the ceiling itself didn't reflect the weather outside, instead it was just a blank abyss of blackness, and yet the charm didn't fool one into thinking the ceiling was hundreds of feet higher than it actually was.

But most importantly the room felt _comfortable_.

"The boys dormitories will be on the right side of the room," Flint told him and gestured towards a door, opening it when they got close enough. "Just go down the staircase."

He descended the stairs, and walked along the hallway until he reached the first year dormitory room, which was the first door he came across.

"Finally made it, did you?" Blaise asked as he hopped into bed.

"Er, yeah," Harry agreed, spotting the empty bed by the door with his trunk lying at the foot. "Did I miss anything important?"

"Not really," Teddy causally shrugged. "Snape said a few things, but he probably just wanted to look important. It was mainly just respect your other dorm mates and all that junk."

Harry tensed as soon as he heard Snape's name. How could he have been so stupid as to not even give a thought to who his Head of House was?

It was just his luck. His mom had always had a bit of a cold shoulder when Snape's name was mentioned to her in conversation. And her stories about James and her childhood school years usually involved some conflict Harry's dad was having with "Snivellus" as James had called him.

And now the so called "enemy" of his father was now his head of house, his "mentor". And, without a doubt, he already hated Harry. How could he not? Snape already had a bad history with his family, and then Harry wasn't even present for Snape's first speech, which probably ticked the man off even more.

Draco rolled his eyes looking slightly more serious than Theodore. "There was also the ten minute lecture he gave on how important our studies were. And if we started to get anything below an Acceptable he would personally see that we make or join a study group."

"Anything else?" Harry prodded, completely worried that if he broke even the smallest rule he would get detention for a month.

"Just don't sneak out during the night, come back to the dormitories before curfew, that sort of stuff. Don't worry about it," Teddy shrugged as he slipped into his night clothes.

Considering Draco didn't add anything else either, Harry decided to let the subject drop. He walked over to his trunk and observed his bed. It had white sheets and a thicker green comforter on top, and there were two pillows resting against a headboard, which stretched towards the ceiling and outlined the bed in curtains. He unpacked all his clothes and under garments, putting them all in the small drawer which doubled as a nightstand by his bed. There was also a small closet, which each boy had, and Harry saw that there were already ties, scarves, and robes with the Slytherin crest in there.

After finishing packing and getting ready for sleep, Harry hoped into bed, turned his light off darkening the room, put his wand under one of the pillows, and drew the curtains. Sleeping with his wand so close to him was a habit Harry had developed the first day of obtaining the wand. He felt connected to it, and was honestly more comfortable with it in a place a person couldn't easily steal it. The wand was made of black ebony wood, with a thestrals hair as its core…and Harry _loved _it. It seemed perfect for him. He couldn't imagine having to use another wand.

As Harry laid in bed his thoughts soon drifted to other thoughts. He thought of his mom, Remus, classes the next day, his new friends, all the questions and dangerous things that seemed to attract to him that day…

He yawned, his exhaustion kicking in thinking that hopefully trouble would stay out of his way tomorrow.

And with that final thought he closed his eyes, absolutely positive that nothing could possibly surprise him tomorrow, after all he'd been through today.

One by one the boys fell into silent slumber.

* * *

**A/N**: I am lazy. That's the only explanation I'm giving for my long update. It's not the whole story of my life, but it is true, and I'm sure you all are tired of hearing excuses from this story, and other stories you've been reading since I'm sure as hell I'm not the only one on this site that procrastinates. I really am trying harder to update quicker with my fanfiction, so don't worry! Thank you to all of you who staid and kept reading this story. The plot shall continue to thicken! (And expect to see this same exact message up in my other fanficion stories for when I finally update them, because I _am _lazy after all.)

But I want to stress it yet again, Harry will be dark! He isn't so much yet because he's young, and surrounded by other young kids. But trust me! I know what's coming! He'll be a badass in no time.

But I have a question: Do you think I'm writing a well-toned voice for Harry in this story? I don't know if it's because _I _wrote it, but it seems like he doesn't have much of a character. Tell me what you think, and I'll make sure to emphasize on his personality in the next few chapters.


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